


No More Monsters, I Can Breathe Again

by CloudDreamer



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Suicidal Thoughts, i will fist fight nastya into talking about her feelings, she will be sad but it's going to be okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudDreamer/pseuds/CloudDreamer
Summary: Nastya's scars are starting to fade, and she doesn't know what it means.Title from "Praying" by Ke$ha.
Relationships: Dr Carmilla & Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14
Collections: Stowaways' Shenanigans





	No More Monsters, I Can Breathe Again

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Mechs typical self-harm/suicidal ideation. Nastya's perspective on this new status quo, including thoughts on previous dubiously consensual science and abuse. Flashbacks to violence. 
> 
> A little bit inspired by Counting Scars by Vyt!

The Mechanisms, as a rule, don’t scar.

At least, they don’t scar permanently. If someone shot a spear through Jonny’s chest, he’d have the mark until he was burned to bits, leaving only his metal heart to rebuild his body from scratch, and then his chest would be clean again. With the exception of one mark. They all have that one scar.

Nastya looks in the mirror. There weren’t many mirrors on Aurora. Even her metal surfaces were less reflective than they should be. Maybe there had been, once upon a time, but Jonny had smashed them to bits long before she’d woken up. The only place she remembered seeing her reflection was in Doctor Carmilla’s lab, and those weren’t exactly pleasant memories.

The network of gleaming quicksilver veins like wires stands out beneath her pale skin, almost perfectly undisturbed by scars. Across her stomach, up her chest, entwined around her neck. Precise, organized, clean— until that point. She shouldn’t remember it. The last recollection she has from the night she died is Doctor Carmilla standing over her, offering eternity and promising to love her. She doesn’t know what she said then, but she knows the pain of her throat being ripped open.

She shouldn’t remember the agony of being unmade, of the last traces of her humanity on Doctor Carmilla’s lips, shouldn’t remember trying to scream but not being able to force any air out of still lungs. Being remade with icy lightning in her, always cold, shaking. But she does, and she always will. Nothing now will undo that.

Yet…

The bruises there are fading. The once sharp red outline of teeth against her jugular seem almost pink in the Silvana’s faint light. Slowly, Nastya knows, but still fading. Fading like the messy stitch work on Raphaella’s back had, all those thousands of years ago. She’d laughed it off, said it was something to do with how her Mechanization was different, but Nastya had known she was lying. If it really was something scientific, then she would’ve told everyone about the details. And Jonny would’ve shot her repeatedly, and that would’ve been safe.

This isn’t safe at all. Nothing about being here is safe. Nothing about being Nastya is safe. She keeps her hands steady on the counter with careful focus, but if she slips for just a moment, they’ll start shaking. She’s a minefield. The wrong words or the wrong thoughts will send her to the ground. She used to be stronger than this. If she’s really healing, if that’s what this means, then shouldn’t she be stronger?

She hasn’t died once since Doctor Carmilla carried her in from the void. Even after the show, when they were pursued by police, Doctor Carmilla protected her. She’d stepped in front of bullets for her, fully aware Nastya could take them. Fully aware she’d felt worse, responsible for most of that worse. She didn’t act ask for anything in return, didn’t mention it at all. Nastya almost asked, despite herself. Almost asked why.

She’s almost tempted to reopen those wounds on her neck with a knife, bleed out, just so she doesn’t forget what it feels like. Just for a reminder. If she keeps going the way she has, she might begin to trust Doctor Carmilla. She holds tight to the counter, tight enough to bruise her fingers. How is she so vulnerable? Vulnerable and stupid. She’s lived for millennium, and she could’ve sworn she’d spent enough of those years trapped on Doctor Carmilla’s operating table to know better. She should be stronger than this.

She exhales. Taps her feet against the floor in a beat to match her heart to. She will not panic now. She’s just… looking. Looking at her own reflection and wondering.

Is she a fool for starting to wonder if things could change? Maybe. She’s spent so long trying her best not to think about Doctor Carmilla. Jonny used her like a prop in his stories, divorcing her from the violence and powerlessness of those memories. Ivy reduced her to numbers. Ashes lied, made them out to be more powerful than they really had been, but Nastya… Nastya buried those memories. Pushed them to the bottom of her bag, covered up with violence and code and warm love.

And now they were dragged out, and Nastya finally sees how heavy they were. Finally sees the burden she’d been carrying all along without knowing it. She’s not sure how she stood it this entire time.

Nastya’s not sure how she’ll ever be able to stand again, but she will. It won’t ever be easy. She won’t be who she used to be; for better or for worse, she’s seen too much, done too much. These marks will never leave her, not for good, but they’ll fade. The sharp grief in her chest will dull.

She can’t see this future, can’t see the days ahead where she’ll step into the light with something like hope on her face. She’s caught under the weight of all the years that were stolen from her. There’s no justice in this and part of her wants to keep the scars, needs a reminder of everything Doctor Carmilla has done to her carved into her body like a brand. To move on, to accept this new norm, isn’t it a betrayal of everything she went through?

She lets her tears out. This time, they’re not quiet, because she doesn’t have to hide her fear anymore. She doesn’t need to be strong for anyone else.

Nastya can just be herself.


End file.
